


cringe

by fotias



Category: Nuclear Summer 1997 (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Degradation, M/M, Office Sex, Pity Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, this sucks.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fotias/pseuds/fotias
Summary: this joke got out of hand .
Relationships: Daniel MacCready/Dan the Xerox Man
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	cringe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snottite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snottite/gifts).



Dan tapped the pager clipped to his belt, clearly agitated but trying to restrain himself. “You’re getting these, right?”

“I think so. Why, is it something important?”

Rubbing his temple with two fingers, he mumbled something to himself under his breath, then sighed sharply. “It’s—look, can you _please_ stop messing with the Xerox and just let me handle it? I understand you have your own shit going on, but—”

MacCready had been looking up at him over his glasses, but turned away now, pondering the most provocative way he could phrase this, heat rising to his chest already. “...Does it really matter if it breaks? It’s just a stupid machine. Aren’t you kind of blowing this out of proportion?”

“Damn it, MacCready—” he bit his lip at Dan’s outburst, keeping his gaze down— “do you think this is some stupid game? I _paid_ for part of that thing, I was the one who convinced the higher-ups keeping it on this floor was a good idea and it pisses me off that you think you’re so important you can just go fucking around with it when _I’m_ the one who cleans up after you, okay? I know you don’t like working with people, but you’re not an idiot! It’s like you’re fucking with me purposely or something, what is _wrong_ with you? Are you—”

“— _f-fuck_ —”

“...are you… uh?” He’d been pacing in circles, pinching the bridge of his nose, not paying much attention to MacCready’s state, but he seemed… riled up. Red up to his ears, sweating, his breath coming in short gasps, digging his nails into the fabric on his inner thigh, almost as if he was—

Dropped his voice to a whisper, Dan hissed, “...are you _getting off to this?_ ”

MacCready swore under his breath again, still not making eye contact. “Would—would it bother you if I was?”

He was affixed with a kind of incredulous _look_ that he could feel even without looking up. “...you’ve been fucking with me on purpose.”

“Mmm.” Affirmative, not even pretending to feel remorseful.

“For _this_.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” He turned in his chair to face Dan, spreading his legs, and it became quickly apparent that he was completely unraveling, eyes half-lidded, visibly hard under his slacks. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. It was… a little pathetic, honestly.

“...geez, uh… shit.” He swallowed hard, and MacCready raked his eyes up and down his body, drinking in the signs that he was getting flustered. “Should I get you some cold water or something?”

“I think you know what I need.”

“ _Okay_ , just—Jesus.” Dan grabbed him under the arm and lifted, roughly, and it sent irresistible shivers up and down his spine. “You’re gonna make a fool of yourself if you keep talking about this so loud…”

He was dragged, somewhat unceremoniously, to the men’s restroom. It was an unusual scene, to be sure, and MacCready would have _liked_ to think that he was getting judgemental stares as the door slammed, but in all honesty everyone seemed to have stopped giving a shit what happened to him somewhere around six months ago.

The lock on the door clicked—it was unclear which of them had the presence of mind to do so—and Dan pressed his back to it, looking rather unsettled. “Just… run your head under the sink or something, cool down, okay? Jesus.”

MacCready straightened his spine, then pressed his palm to the door, next to Dan’s waist, which didn’t quite have the effect it could have if he wasn’t at eye level with his chest. “Let me suck you off.”

He positively _relished_ in Dan’s reaction, the heat rushing visibly to his cheeks, the annoyed quirk of his eyebrow.

“...is this seriously how you flirt with people? What are you, a fourth grader?” MacCready’s hand slid down the cheap wood of the door, stopping at his hip. “...uh, don’t you think this is kind of… sad?”

All it did was elicit a low growl from the back of his throat. “Keep talking.”

Dan almost rolled his eyes, realizing quickly that complaining about the abject ridiculousness of this situation would only make it worse. “...fine. If I let you do… whatever it is you’re getting out of this, then you’ll calm down and stop fucking with the Xerox?”

“Whatever you say.” _Hell no._

“Fine, just… just keep it down.” Sighing, he moved to unbutton his pants before MacCready pushed his hands away and did it for him without so much as a ‘thank you’, his movements hungry, almost frantic. He shivered slightly as MacCready pulled him out of his boxers with all the delicate tenderness of a chimpanzee, not even half hard; the room was cold, and he was mostly just tired and kind of weirded out.

He kneeled, breathing hard for a moment, then grabbed Dan’s thighs to keep himself up. His ring glinted under the harsh fluorescent light, and Dan mumbled halfheartedly, “Aren’t you married…?”

“F— _fuuuck_ —” MacCready gasped, and in an instant he had seven inches of him down his throat, gagging desperately.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that, or of what exactly could be wrong with a person to make him act like this. To make matters worse, MacCready was, quite frankly, horrible at giving head. He kept pulling away to mumble to himself, his rhythm was horrible, and he seemed far more concerned with making himself choke than actually getting Dan off. Still, a blowjob was a blowjob. Dan halfheartedly let his hand rest on his coworker’s head, wishing he’d brought a newspaper or something.

After a few minutes of this weird, self-indulgent show he was giving, MacCready finally pulled away for a moment, deliberately letting a trail of spit fall from his mouth to his cock, which was probably intended to be arousing but in practice was mostly just kind of gross. His voice trembled uncharacteristically. “T-tell me how pathetic I am.”

“...”

“Tell me I’m a filthy whore.”

“...uh… I’m… I’m not doing that?”

Dan had thought the rejection would at least get him to calm down somewhat, but it only seemed to spur him on further, setting him positively trembling, continuing to mutter unintelligibly to himself.

“...l-look, I, uh, I gotta clock out at five, can we hurry this up?”

MacCready swallowed visibly. “Y-yes. Sir.”

He went down on him again, still taking in far too much with every bob of his head but settling into a more comfortable rhythm. It was a competent enough performance that Dan could almost forget who was giving it to him, if he closed his eyes and also let arousal override the part of his brain that controlled his common sense.

Before too long, he softly let MacCready know he was getting close, intending to pull away out of courtesy. A moment later, though, Dan felt him grab his ass and unceremoniously yank him closer, taking him in all the way to the base of his dick, feeling his tip hit the back of his throat. He accidentally tugged at MacCready’s hair in reaction to the sudden movement, and in response he let out a kind of pathetic half-gag half-moan as Dan came, messily swallowing most of his load.

The whole situation was making him wince with secondhand embarrassment. He finally pulled out, and, not making eye contact, grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, cleaning and covering himself up. “...are you done now?”

“I—I gotta.” MacCready hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, and looked disheveled, almost lightheaded; his tie was loose, his hair was a mess, and his glasses, which he for some reason hadn’t bothered to take off, were smeared and lopsided. “Gotta clean myself up.”

Dan successfully managed to repress his eyebrow twitching. “...yeah, you… you do that. I’m gonna get back to work, so can you…”

He stood, moving away from the door, looking about as hot and bothered as when this whole mess had started. Dan didn’t want to look to confirm it, but he’d have bet money MacCready was still hard. “Thanks,” he muttered dryly, the barest courtesy.

Getting the hell out of that restroom like it was on fire, Dan silently vowed to drink enough to permanently wipe the events of the last hour from his memory the moment he got the chance.


End file.
